


I Became Snoke

by idrilhadhafang



Series: Tickets To My Downfall [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Orphanage, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi & Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Poverty, The Republic Sucks, snoke backstory, villain backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: Every villain has an origin. Snoke is no exception. Left on a doorstep as Aldric and raised as Milaran, he grows up hungry for a way to bring his homeplanet to greatness. And then he hears the voice calling him to Exegol...
Series: Tickets To My Downfall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057094
Collections: Bad Day Collection





	1. In the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: Call this a part of my mission to flesh out the Sequel Trilogy’s backstory some more.

I was not born Snoke. I became Snoke. 

I told young Solo that much on that space station where I was exiled. I found that I felt very at home there, among the carnivorous plants — among the attempted smothering of the Dark Side that did, ultimately, fail. 

Snoke was my destiny. Unavoidable. 

***

In terms of where I was born, I can catch glimpses in visions here and there. A glowing tube, almost luminous in the darkness. The warmth of water. I can imagine that it would be how other beings of flesh and blood would perceive the womb to be. 

I can remember other things too. The winds. The other beings, not of my species, that are willing to take me in all the same.

My name is not Snoke. Not at the time. My name is Aldric. A strange and skinny child found on a doorstep on Milara, for no reason at all. I do not know who I am. What I am. I only know what is inflicted on me. What I have to fit. 

***

My orphanage is not a hellish place, not necessarily. I can still hear the misery in it, however. The anger. There are emaciated Milarans wearing rags, their ribs almost sticking out. The dregs of the galaxy...and I cannot say where that voice in my mind came from. 

Mette is the woman in charge of the orphanage. “The Republic never helped us," she says. “We had to fend for ourselves. It is like thinking only royalty deserve to feast, only poets should be taught to read."

”What’s the Republic?” I ask. 

Mette sighs. “A place of corruption and uselessness,” she says. "It selects that which they believe are worthy of compassion. And when you choose to put up with it no longer, they choose to see you as an enemy. Such was the case with the Separatists. And others. They went against the Republic — before it became the Empire. The Rebellion’s thinking of rebuilding the Republic. A return to corruption, if you ask me.”

I frown. “Why would they want that, ma’am?”

”People seem conditioned to accept bad ideas more than good ones.”

***

She shows me to my quarters. They’re not terrible, but it is clear that it is a grim place. Still, it’s not as if Mette takes pleasure in such things. She seems to be a good woman. Sad. I can feel her sadness clinging to her like raindrops. 

“I wouldn’t worry so much about grown-up things, Aldric,” Mette says to me. She smiles faintly. “We’ll sort this out soon enough. People...they can break conditioning. I know it."

"I hope,” I say. 

***

The darkness is more welcoming to me than it would be to many children. In the dark, I rest, under covers that are far from luxurious but are preferable to shivering in the cold. 

There is a tug at my mind. And a voice, deep. _You’re meant for more, child. You’ll come to me, when you’re old enough. When you’re strong._


	2. Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aldric/Snoke sets out to Exegol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

You’d probably assume that I had a boring, cliché backstory for a Dark Sider, no doubt. Like Darth Bane being abused by his father. You’d probably assume something along the lines of, “Alas, poor Snoke! No one understood him; he was abused.”

I assure you, listener, Mette did nothing to abuse me. She did her best. A cliché phrase without a doubt, but she did. She taught the Milaran children (and me, the strange creature without a species, seemingly) well; my education in Milaran history was as expansive as an orphanage whelp could have. I learned their folklore, their culture — though I was not one of them, I was Milaran as Milaran could be. 

***

It is when I am an adult that I have a vision. I tell Mette about it — a vision of a Sith throne, and chanting figures in hoods. 

“There may yet be prophet blood in you, Aldric,” Mette says. 

“Not prophet. There is...something more. Something greater.”

”Either way,” Mette says, “I know you’ll find a way to save our people, Aldric. The Sith...they are far from desirable, but they are better than letting more innocents suffer because the Republic cares nothing for us."

I quite agree. I think that a one-legged, drunken tach would do a better job at running the Republic — if you forgive my frustration. 

And given that even Sith frown on corruption and disorder...there may be hope for Milara with them. 

"Then I’ll find them,” I say. I don’t have so much as coordinates. I only have images of a Sith throne, and that could very well be anywhere in the galaxy.

The voice will show me the way. I know it. I will walk well and steer a ship among the stars, and all will be well. 

***

Coordinates flash in my head. I punch them into the ship that I am piloting and watch as I hit hyperspace. Burn sky until you see lines, the human saying goes, though I do not know what burning sky has anything to do with this.

Human expressions are odd. 

I have to stay vigilant. Naturally. I sit at my cockpit at my ship, the _Equilibrium_ , and keep watch — as I am meant to. 


End file.
